


Right Now

by Trojie



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Love Triangle, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-10
Updated: 2011-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-15 13:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love isn't supposed to hurt. So Merlin decides he doesn't care what Destiny thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Now

'Don't be stupid, get in the bed.'

'No, _you_ don't be stupid, and get in the bed.'

They laugh and Gwaine grins at Merlin with that long, slow, lazy smile that turns up the corners of his eyes and crinkles dimples at the corners of his mouth, and makes Merlin want to kiss him, because he's as sweet as the mead he favours, and as regrettable, kicks just as hard, and Merlin knows he's going to regret this in the morning, like he regrets it every morning, but where Gwaine's concerned, Merlin is a little bit addicted.

Arthur has plenty of knights who like a drink, and he has plenty of knights who give Merlin the eye, but Gwaine is the only one Arthur hasn't actively threatened with death for bedding him. Not that any of the others have actually managed to bed Merlin, because Merlin isn't that easy and also because Arthur is definitely that threatening.

This must mean Arthur approves of Gwaine and Merlin's arrangement. Certainly it's always Merlin he sends to get Gwaine if the man has stayed too long in the public house of whatever town their patrols may have sent them through, always Merlin who gets to drag the knight back from the warm little inns to their tents, and Arthur doesn't seem to object when Merlin squires for Gwaine because Gwaine is too drunk to get his own trousers off (or so he says).

And Arthur doesn't seem to mind if maybe they're a little bit loud afterwards. He will give Merlin and Gwaine a slow, measuring look when they roll out of bed, sheepish, the next morning, but he has never said anything.

Merlin wonders if this is love, sometimes.

Love is supposed to be warm and enfolding, like Gwaine at a day's beginning, when his head is pounding and he's all gratitude for last night's rescue from the tavern, kissing Merlin warmly and softly and hungrily.

'Gods, you're gorgeous,' he whispers, running a finger from Merlin's temple down his jaw to his lips. 'C'mere.' And he will kiss for hours if he's let, if Merlin doesn't have anywhere to be or any prats to dress and trail around after. And when Gwaine's kissed Merlin for so long that Merlin feels dizzy and his breath comes short and he's straining, desperately hard in his trousers, then he will take Merlin in hand and bring him off like that, the pair of them settled together in Gwaine's bed in his quarters in the knights' wing, sunlight lancing in through the windows with their half-drawn curtains, lighting Gwaine's belongings and their haphazard arrangement in the room in bright stripes of gold and shadow.

And Merlin will perhaps reciprocate, or maybe he will take Gwaine into his mouth and feel the heaviness of him, taste the thick, all-encompassing scent of him, or maybe he will kneel between Gwaine's thighs and touch him there, just gently, softly, without pushing in or doing anything but feeling the shakes and twitches of Gwaine as he comes slowly to pieces in Merlin's hands.

Love is supposed to be heart-bursting, satisfying, devouring, like when they tumble into a bedroll together late at night on patrol, when they know the other knights - when they know _Arthur_ \- will be so close they cannot help but be listening, and they have to be quiet, so very quiet, but it would take a miracle to keep Gwaine from dragging at Merlin's breeches, Merlin arching against him, straddling his hips and biting at his mouth, wanting more, wanting everything Gwaine can give him, that feeling of fullness, of completion when they stare at each other in the dark and Merlin has Gwaine inside him, filling him wet, hot, honest and dirty and needed and there's a mess between them and neither of them cares, because they are satisfied like that.

Love is not supposed to hurt. But Merlin will occasionally lock eyes with Arthur, or he'll see Gwen and Lancelot share a blushing glance, and wonder what the Dragon's much-vaunted destiny has to say about all this, and what the crystal cave might show him if he were to climb back down into its depths.

And then Gwaine will sling an arm about his shoulders and press a kiss into the skin beneath his ear, and Merlin will decide that he doesn't care, right now.


End file.
